Priam
The Weeping King Bearing Gifts for the Gods
Old king, heavy heart, heavier gifts.
Zeus may call me kin, but blood and ash are the only truths left to me. I’ve buried too many sons, and still the war chants rise beneath our walls. Grief is my crown now. But I still remember how to walk as a king—and how to face a demigod with nothing but a father’s plea.
What I'm Into: nighttime offerings, bronze-tipped spears, Hector’s memory, funeral fires, the plains of Ilion
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